Content warning: This post contains images of a deceased baby, and may be triggering for some readers.
Each and every day, I find myself reflecting on how bittersweet my life is.
I have two beautiful children, a wonderful, loving husband, a supportive family, cherished friends, a job that I love, and a nice home. However, despite all the things I do have, there is one thing I don’t have, that I long for every day.
I am one of those women who loves being pregnant. I have relatively easy (insofar as much as the words easy and pregnancy go hand in hand!), uncomplicated and somewhat uneventful pregnancies. I have always enjoyed seeing the grainy, black and white images of the tiny humans created by my husband and me. For me, little compares to catching those first glimpses of your unborn baby.
When my husband Matt and I went for my 20 week ultrasound for our third baby, it never entered either of our minds that something would be wrong. I had this whole pregnancy thing down pat, the 20 week ultrasound was, for me, simply another photoshoot for my baby.